


Our Little Group

by TechnicalMachine



Category: LEGO Monkie Kid
Genre: Adoption, Child Abandonment, Despite all that this is actually a happy story, Found Family, Gen, Headcanon, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Journey to the West - Freeform, Minor Violence, Name Changes, Origin Story, Team as Family, it's connecting one canon to another
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:47:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29608950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TechnicalMachine/pseuds/TechnicalMachine
Summary: It didn't come to him in a dream, or under the orders of a Bodhisattva, or any other concrete way. He just had a gut feeling, a deeply embedded instinct.Which was really annoying.
Relationships: Pigsy & Mei, Pigsy & Qi Xiaotian | MK, Pigsy & Sandy, Pigsy & Sun Wukong (Monkey King), Pigsy & Tang, Pigsy & Tripitaka, Qi Xiaotian | MK & Long Xiaojiao | Mei, Tang & Qi Xiaotian | MK, there's just friendship all around here
Comments: 17
Kudos: 22





	Our Little Group

**Author's Note:**

> So, if you're here from my WIPs site, you know this story. If not, here's all you need to know: this story is pure headcanon and speculation. This is my attempt to tie the original Journey to the West canon into LMK in a way that almost makes sense if you squint. I also threw in some MK/Qí Xiǎotiān (齐小天) headcanon backstory in there for the fun of it. You can't just include a main character who's parents are literally never mentioned and NOT expect me to make up some sort of reason. I had to cut out a few things from the original JttW (like Red Boy's existence) to make it work, but all that is covered in the fic below, which I'll let you get to now. Just keep in mind that I'm basing all my JttW knowledge on the Foreign Languages Press translation, so my information may differ from yours.

_The stories don’t get everything right_ , Pigsy contemplated as he trudged through the burning mountains. He wished, then, that they did. A lotus throne would be easier to approach than an island that, for some reason, was surrounded by a mountain range that should’ve been hundreds of miles to the west.

Delivering the news to Sandy was easier. He’d stayed nearby in his effort to learn to manage the anger problems he’d developed along their mission. Pigsy had needed to leave in a hurry after telling him, but at least getting there was simple enough.

_Leave it to the monkey to make this even more difficult._ Of course, just as he was thinking this, Pigsy was interrupted by a blast of cool air from above, and Monkey himself landed in front of him.

“Pigsy!” he greeted jovially. “What are you doing here?”

“I have some news,” Pigsy replied, omitting that it wasn’t good news in the hopes that Monkey would get him out of this death-trap of a mountain range.

“Well, this isn’t the place for that,” Monkey considered, looking around the burning landscape. “Here, I’ll give you a lift.”

With that, Monkey summoned his somersault cloud.

* * *

Only when the two of them were settled in Monkey’s house in Water-Curtain Cave, a cup of tea and a bag of peach chips on the table, did Monkey again ask what Pigsy was doing there.

“Well,” Pigsy began, somewhat stalling and feeling foolish for it. “As you know, I’ve been looking out for the master since we parted ways.”

Monkey nodded. They’d all had their reasons not to return to heaven yet. Sandy’s anger issues, Monkey’s impulsive desire to continue fighting demons, and Pigsy deciding someone needed to look after Sanzang in the meantime.

“Well, I’ve come to inform you that…” He took a deep breath. “The master passed away last night.”

Monkey was silent and unreadable. By virtue of being Sanzang’s oldest and most competent disciple, they’d been rather close. On the other hand, they’d also fought a lot, and Monkey had gotten himself banished more than once. Pigsy had no idea how Monkey might be taking this news.

After a few moments of silence, Monkey replied, “I see… Wasn’t the manfruit supposed to prevent that?”

Pigsy shook his head. “It only lengthened his lifespan a few thousand years.” Pigsy hesitated, then continued, “He lived longer than most mortals, but… Well, it was about time for him to reach Nirvana anyway. He spent ten lifetimes cultivating his conduct!”

Monkey nodded, “Yeah, that’s true.” He dropped the formal tone the two of them had adopted in favor of a more modern vernacular. “I’m kind of surprised he didn’t become a Bodhisattva.”

“After dealing with us for that whole journey? I’m not,” Pigsy replied. Both laughed at that, and Pigsy felt the tense atmosphere dissolve. Whether Monkey was handling the news better than Sandy had or not, he wasn’t going to show Pigsy, and Pigsy thought that just as well.

The two eventually moved outside the cave to look out over the mountains and catch up. Pigsy delicately avoided the topic of Tang Sanzang at first, but Monkey showed no such hesitation, so Pigsy abandoned it as well.

“I tried his patience on occasion,” Pigsy admitted, involuntarily falling back into formality. Catching himself, he continued, “But no one could get on his nerves like you could.” They laughed, and Pigsy felt lighter than he had all day. He and Monkey may not always get along, but when it came down to it, they were still brothers, although that term had shifted meanings these days. “What about you?”

“Oh, nothing too bad,” Monkey replied breezily. “The Demon Bull King and Princess Iron Fan have been a bit annoying, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. Did you know she’s pregnant?”

Pigsy shook his head.

“You’d think she’d slow down a bit in the interest of the baby, but she’s wreaking just as much havoc as her husband, if not more.”

“Is that why you’ve moved the burning mountains?” Pigsy asked, eyebrow raised.

Monkey’s mischievous grin was answer enough, but he still answered, “Partially. I stole her fan to do it, too. Serves them right for making me work so hard.” Monkey laughed, but Pigsy was caught up on one part of the answer.

“Only partially?”

Monkey considered him for a moment, to his discomfort.

“To be honest,” Monkey finally replied, “I’m thinking about retiring.”

“Really?” Pigsy was skeptical. It’s not like Monkey was getting any older, really, and he certainly didn’t seem any less energetic.

“Yeah,” Monkey shrugged, not really looking at his companion. “That lotus throne sounds better and better all the time.”

“I thought you liked fighting demons and protecting the people?”

“I do!” Monkey turned to face him again. “It’s nice, being _liked_ for fighting.”

Pigsy didn’t have to think too hard to know why Monkey would feel that way. Being trapped under a mountain in punishment would give anyone complexes, and Monkey had always liked being liked.

“But it gets exhausting after two thousand years!” He slumped back in his chair and gave Pigsy a look. “You know as well as I do that we’re not built for all this.” He gestured vaguely around, but Pigsy got the idea.

The world had started changing so rapidly the past few centuries. Part of him wondered if that’s what finally got Sanzang to move on, not that he’d ever share that thought with Monkey. Even he and his fellow-disciples, immortal though they were, struggled with all the new rules and advancements that were popping up. Still…

“What about the Demon Bull King?” Pigsy asked.

Monkey scoffed, somewhat offended. “I’ll deal with him first, of course. And I’m not just going to leave the world undefended.” He looked smug as he leaned back and finished, “I’m going to find a successor.”

“Who could you possibly find that could match you in power?” Not to feed Monkey’s ego, but Pigsy and everyone else knew that the Monkey King had unprecedented power for a non-deity. It took the Buddha himself to defeat him in any way that stuck, and his charisma could get him out of any trouble his powers couldn’t. It would be hard to find anyone that could match him. Except… “Not the six-eared macaque, I assume.”

“Of course not. That guy would just wreck everything.”

“Then who?”

Monkey shrugged. “I don’t know yet. But I don’t plan on waiting around for someone to be born with power like mine. I plan to give it to them.”

“Can you do that?” Pigsy was bewildered. Internally, he couldn’t help but wonder _why_ Monkey would be willing to hand over _any_ of his power to anyone else, but he knew if he asked, Monkey would dodge the question. So, instead, he focused on the _how._

“Yeah, actually.” Monkey pulled his as-you-will cudgel from his ear and held it in both hands as he spoke. “I found a technique that lets me put some of my power into this staff, then when someone I deem worthy picks it up, the power will be transferred to them.”

“Huh.” Pigsy didn’t know what else to say.

“From what I can tell, the power then becomes theirs. Permanently. Nothing short of death could take it completely, which isn’t really a problem since they’ll become invincible as well.”

Pigsy immediately noticed a flaw with this plan.

“And if you give the power to the wrong person?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, what if the person you give the power to turns out to have been a bad choice. You won’t be able to take it away.”

Monkey contemplated that for a few moments, then replied, “I guess I’ll just have to choose well.” He shrunk his cudgel and put it back in his ear, the conversation over as far as he was concerned. Pigsy knew better than to argue by now.

He stared up at the darkening sky and sighed. Standing, he said, “I’d better get going.”

“You could always stay the night,” Monkey offered.

“Nah, I’ve got funeral arrangements to make.” He looked at Monkey. “You gonna be there?”

Monkey shrugged.

Pigsy nodded, brushed off his shirt, and held out a hand.

“I’ll see you around, I guess.”

Monkey shook his hand and replied, “If you ever need a place to stay, you’re welcome here. Unless, you’re planning on going back?”

Pigsy knew what he meant. Back to being Marshal Tian Peng.

“I don’t know yet,” he replied. Monkey nodded in understanding, and offered to take him back to his boat.

* * *

Pigsy was, admittedly, at sort of a loss after the funeral. Monkey hadn’t shown up, at least not that he could see, but Sandy had. He’d had to leave immediately after the service for some appointment, so Pigsy had entertained at dinner by himself. He made a mental note to never do that again.

But, once it was all over, he didn’t really know what to do with himself. Logically, he’d done what he’d stuck around to do, so he should go back to his duties as marshal. He’d more than served his sentence and, for the most part, learned his lesson. The past couple thousand years had made him… _responsible._

Monkey sure would have a laugh at that.

So, the decision seemed made. He’d settle all Sanzang’s affairs, which really wasn’t much, and return to his position. And yet, something told him his work here wasn’t finished.

It didn’t come to him in a dream, or under the orders of a Bodhisattva, or any other concrete way. He just had a gut feeling, a deeply embedded instinct.

Which was really annoying.

He’d spent the past two thousand years as a monk’s disciple! He didn’t know what to do with himself if he wasn’t that or Marshal Tian Peng. That was all he’d ever been, aside from his brief stint as a husband. If his wife were still alive, he might’ve gone back there, but, then again, she hadn’t really wanted him anyway.

All he had was his master’s little house and the small savings he’d collected. It wasn’t enough to support him, and, really, he should just go back. But every time he thought about it, he felt a pang of fear. It was like that feeling you get when you leave the house and you’re sure you’ve forgotten something, but you can’t for the life of you think of what it is.

So, he stayed. For the next twenty years, he worked odd jobs, eventually made enough money to open up his own noodle shop, and even formed a rivalry with the shop across the street.

Twenty years. A blink of an eye in the life of an immortal, but Pigsy felt every second of it. While he killed time running his noodle shop, Sandy had moved into a houseboat and they’d lost contact, and Monkey had sealed the Demon Bull King and disappeared. Somehow, the loss of contact with his brother-disciples made that feeling of wrongness even stronger.

He was of two minds. He enjoyed running his little shop, don’t get him wrong, but he felt a sense of obligation. Two senses of obligation really, that pulled him in different directions and threatened to tear him apart.

At least he had a specific job in heaven. Sure, no one had come asking after him, but that only made him feel like he was getting away with shirking responsibilities. A couple thousand years ago, he would’ve felt pride at that. Now, though, he just felt only vague guilt.

And for what? What was keeping him here? An impossible to define anxiety? What was this feeling, and why was it so strong? After twenty years, he still hadn’t found what it was that kept him bound to this place, and he was starting to feel that it couldn’t possibly be more important than his job in the Court of Heaven...

He was wrapped deeply in this internal debate as he locked up shop for the night. He could, he knew, move into the apartment above the shop that he was currently using as a storage room and save himself the time and effort of commuting. But he was a bit sentimental these days, so he stayed in his old house. The lock clicked, and he turned to his truck. Suddenly, something caught his attention, and he stopped. Somewhere nearby, he heard something.

Crying.

Not just crying, really. Dramatic wailing. And it sounded young.

Concerned, Pigsy pocketed his keys and followed the sound. It echoed through the alley beside his shop. Pigsy crept into the alley with more than a little trepidation. The sound grew louder as he walked. He came to a corner where the alley split left and right, and, listening closely, Pigsy turned left—behind his shop— and continued onward.

He nearly walked right past the source, but doubled back when he heard the crying grow distant again. It echoed loudly around the back of the shop, and there on the back step, Pigsy found the source.

A small bundle of cloth wriggled on the ground. Pigsy scooped it up, immediately fearing the worst, and his suspicions were confirmed when he carefully pulled back the cloth to reveal a small child.

The kid, who really couldn’t have been more than 6 months old, quieted immediately when picked up. Tiny eyes stared up at Pigsy as if staring into his very soul. Then, the kid started babbling at him.

Pigsy was livid, but hid it so as not to scare the child. Who just leaves a baby on the back step of a noodle shop?! What if he hadn’t heard the crying? He shuddered to think of it.

Not knowing what else to do, Pigsy made sure his car was locked and started walking for home. He’d call someone about this in the morning, but for now, he’d just take the kid with him.

* * *

It was decided, a little _too_ quickly in Pigsy’s opinion, that Pigsy would be the one to take care of the kid. Honestly, he’d sort of hoped that would be the case, but he was still shocked at how easy it had been. The only thing that had been really difficult was giving the kid a name. Since there’d been no identification anywhere in the bundle Pigsy had found, he was left responsible for naming the child so they had something to put on the paperwork.

Pigsy sunk a lot of thought into the decision. Normally, he might’ve just given the first name that came to mind, but he was already sort of attached. He was reminded, somehow, of Monkey when he looked at the baby. Maybe because babies kind of look like monkeys, maybe something else, but Pigsy eventually landed on Qí Xiǎotiān. A proper surname and everything, and a sneaky reference to the Great Sage Equaling Heaven in the characters. That way, if Wukong ever met the kid, he wouldn’t make fun of him for being sentimental.

* * *

Turns out, raising a kid is super difficult. Who would’ve guessed?

Pigsy couldn’t help but think, sometimes, that he was a terrible guardian. Sure, Xiǎotiān never complained, but Xiǎotiān was a sweetheart. A sweetheart with way, _way_ too much energy.

_Who knew a three year old could run so fast_ , Pigsy thought, chasing down Xiǎotiān as he ran screaming through the house, trying to avoid a bath.

Still, it wasn’t so bad. The kid was cute, he didn’t draw on the walls, and he’d fall asleep in about half a second if you told him a story. It was kind of nice having company, too, even if that company was three years old and never shut up about cartoons. And that “missing something” feeling had faded to the background in the wake of having someone to take care of again.

Pigsy’s life had fallen into a predictable pattern since adopting Xiǎotiān. Every morning, he’d drag the kid out of bed and get him dressed, then the two of them would go open up the noodle shop. Xiǎotiān would sit on the counter and talk to the customers while Pigsy prepared their orders, and Pigsy had to admit, having a cute kid in the shop wasn’t exactly harmful for business.

Sure, he occasionally had to kick out some jerk who thought it was okay to be rude to a kid, but it was a small price to pay.

* * *

Pigsy and Xiǎotiān had just opened the store a few minutes ago when the first customer of the day, a new one, slouched into the store.

The man wore scholar’s clothes and round glasses, carried a large stack of books, and had bags under his eyes the size of Flowing-Sand River.

“Hi!” Xiǎotiān yelled, and the tired man looked up.

“Oh, hello.” He sounded as exhausted as he looked. Xiǎotiān tilted his head.

“What’ll it be?” Pigsy asked, wiping his hands on a towel.

“Whatever’s cheapest.”

Pigsy frowned. There was nothing wrong with the order itself, but the guy looked like he was about to faint. Fainting customers were pretty bad for business. Still, he wrote down an order for plain ramen and made his way back into the kitchen to prepare it. The man slumped to a table and carefully dropped the books onto it. It looked like he’d be camping out for a while. Pigsy didn’t have a problem with it—he’d probably order multiple bowls if he stayed—and said nothing.

Xiǎotiān meanwhile, slide off the counter and onto a stool, then carefully lowered himself to the floor. Normally, Pigsy wouldn’t let him do that, but he was busy making the noodles, so Xiǎotiān figured he could get away with it. He walked over to the tired man and looked up at him. The man was practically falling asleep sitting up, head propped up in one hand, idly flipping through the book in front of him.

Xiǎotiān couldn’t read yet, but he knew a lot about it, if he did say so himself. Pigsy read him stories all the time, after all. So, he tugged on the man’s robe and asked, “Whatcha reading?”

The man jumped a little in surprise, and Xiǎotiān stepped back, afraid he’d done something wrong. But the man, seeing who’d spoken, smiled softly.

“History,” he replied. “I’m working on a report, actually.”

“A report?” Xiǎotiān asked, deciding to clamber up into the booth across from the stranger.

“Yeah, like…” The man considered his words for a moment. “A story that’s true. Made up of info from these books.” He gestured to the book.

“What’s it about?”

“Well-” The man was interrupted by a bowl of noodles being set on the table.

“Kid, don’t bother him,” Pigsy scolded. Xiǎotiān frowned but nodded. He started to slide out of the booth when the man spoke up.

“Oh, he’s no bother. Honestly, I could use the distraction.” The man held out a hand. “I’m Tang.”

Pigsy shook it, replying, “Pigsy.” Tang’s eyes widened a bit, but whatever he was thinking, he didn’t mention it.

Instead, he said, “This is the last report I need for this history course, but there’s just so much here!” He gestured to the pile of books. “I just didn’t realize how difficult this would be, I guess.”

“What’s it about?” Xiǎotiān asked again, even more curious now.

“It’s about… Do you know who the Monkey King is?”

It was Pigsy’s turn to be surprised but say nothing.

Xiǎotiān shook his head. Of course he didn’t. Pigsy hadn’t even thought to tell the kid about all that. Honestly, he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted him to know it.

Tang seemed surprised. He looked at Pigsy, who shrugged.

“I thought he might be a little young for history,” he replied, only half lying.

“Will you tell me about it Mr. Tang?” Xiǎotiān asked, eyes wide. He, being so young, had no idea there even _were_ stories he didn’t know. He’d already heard a whole bunch, some more than once, so there surely couldn’t be any _more!_

Tang looked at Pigsy, silently asking permission. Xiǎotiān seemed to pick up on that and gave Pigsy his best puppy-dog eyes.

No one could resist the kid’s puppy-dog eyes.

“I don’t have a problem with it,” Pigsy replied. “Maybe it’ll keep you from tearing up the kitchen when I’m not looking.” Xiǎotiān stuck his tongue out at him, and Pigsy laughed. Satisfied the kid wasn’t going to run out into the street or something, he went back to work.

Distantly, he heard Tang start from the beginning, with the rock egg and the laser eyes. Nothing Pigsy didn’t know. Tuning them out, but keeping an ear out for any distress from the kid, he returned to prepping noodles.

Xiǎotiān took to the Monkey King stories like a fish to water. He listened with rapt attention, even as Tang occasionally stopped to write something down. Apparently, telling the stories out loud helped him remember details for his report. Win-win.

Until Xiǎotiān screamed.

Pigsy bolted into the room, asking what was wrong, and the kid bounded up to him excitedly.

“He has the same name as you!” he yelled, not elaborating. Pigsy blinked and looked at Tang for clarification.

“One of Sanzang’s disciples,” Tang answered, sheepishly. “He was also named Pigsy.”

Part of Pigsy knew that he should probably tell Tang and the kid that he _was_ that Pigsy, but just the thought of being interviewed for Tang’s report and the kid’s endless questions put him off the idea.

“Huh. Small world,” he said instead.

* * *

Tang became a regular at the noodle shop after that. He’d come by often to tell Xiǎotiān stories and add details to his report. Every time he walked in the shop, Xiǎotiān would yell “Mr. Tang!” and demand, as politely as a small child can, a new Monkey King story.

Luckily, Tang seemed to have an endless pool of stories to tell. Xiǎotiān soaked it up like a sponge. At home, he drew his favorites and told Pigsy all about them.

Pigsy would pretend not to know the stories for the kid’s benefit.

It wasn’t until a few months of this that Xiǎotiān approached him nervously with a request.

It wasn’t like the kid to be shy, so as soon as he said, “Pigsy?” in a quiet voice, Pigsy was worried.

“What is it, kid?” he asked, turning away from the bills he was looking through to give Xiǎotiān his full attention.

“Um, I was wondering…” The kid kicked his foot adorably. “If maybe… we could call me MK?” Immediately, he started chattering about liking the name he has and not wanting to get rid of it, but he’d always wanted a nickname and _MKwouldbesuchacooloneand—_

“Sure, kid,” Pigsy interrupted. “I’ve gone by a few different names myself. Who am I to tell you what you can and can’t be called?”

Xiǎ— _MK_ looked at him in awe.

“Really?” he asked, and Pigsy thought the kid couldn’t possibly get any cuter.

“Yeah, of course.” And he was quickly proven wrong when MK cheered and hugged him, practically glowing.

* * *

“Hey, kid! C’mere,” Pigsy called, holding an envelope in one hand. MK slid into the room, a Monkey King action figure clutched in one hand. “Happy early birthday.” Pigsy handed the kid the envelope.

MK had just learned how to read, a bit early according to Tang, and was immensely proud of himself, so Pigsy gave him every opportunity to show off that he could.

“What is it?” MK asked, already ripping open the envelope clumsily, still holding the action figure. Pigsy knelt down and held the envelope still for him.

“Why don’t you read it and find out.”

MK finally got the letter open and pulled the paper out. Opening it, he saw a bunch of words he didn’t know and his name. Even sounding it out, he didn’t really understand what he was reading. He looked up at Pigsy, confused.

“What is this?”

Pigsy sighed. He guessed the words would probably be too complicated for a not-quite-six-year-old.

“It’s called a DBA. There’s a bunch of complicated stuff, but basically, it means you could run a business as ‘MK’ if you wanted to.”

MK just tilted his head, confused. Pigsy sighed again. 

“It makes MK a real name, just like Qí Xiǎotiān.”

The kid’s face lit up.

“Really?! You can do that?!” He bounced in place, clutching the letter to his chest. Pigsy smiled at him.

“Yep. We just have to remember to do it again in five years.” MK nodded seriously, then started bouncing again.

“I can’t wait to tell Mr. Tang!” He ran off to go back to whatever game he was playing, yelling, “Thank you, Pigsy!” as he went.

Pigsy smiled fondly and shook his head. _This kid’s gonna be the death of me._

* * *

To be completely, embarrassingly honest, Pigsy very nearly forgot school was a thing.

To be fair, he’d never had to _go_ to school, being a former immortal marshal turned immortal pig-person. How was he expected to remember that school is a thing kids _legally_ have to attend?

Luckily, he received a letter from a fancy boarding school about admissions before MK actually had to start school, or he might’ve had a truancy charge on his hands.

Needless to say, he didn’t enroll MK at boarding school. He went for the local public school, after checking it out for himself. He’d heard horror stories about public schools, but the one nearby was pretty well funded—some rich family in the area apparently donated to it—so he wasn’t too worried.

MK, on the other hand, had been terrified when he heard he was starting school. Not because of school itself, but because:

“If I’m at school, I won’t get to see Mr. Tang at the shop!” MK cried, on the verge of tears.

Pigsy stared at the kid, then pinched his brow.

“Kid,” he said, as gently as he could. Which, admittedly, wasn’t that gentle. “Tang comes to the shop on Saturdays. You won’t go to school on Saturday.”

“Oh.” MK thought for a while, then gave Pigsy a gap toothed grin. “Okay then!”

His first day, thankfully, went without incident. Pigsy dropped him off in the morning, then drove to the shop for opening. To his surprise, Tang _did_ show up that morning.

“First day of school, right?” Tang asked, ordering his usual cheap ramen. Pigsy nodded. “I figured I’d stop in and see how you were doing.”

“Why would you need to do that?” Pigsy asked, setting the bowl in front of him. Tang crammed some noodles in his mouth, realized his mistake, and chewed quickly.

Swallowing, he replied, “Cuz it’s gonna be real quiet in here without him.”

Pigsy hadn’t thought of that. Tang winced when he saw the realization dawn on Pigsy’s face.

“I probably shouldn’t’ve pointed it out,” he admitted.

“Nah, it’s not a big deal. I can handle it.”

Tang shrugged and returned to his pasta, eating quickly out of habit. Usually, MK would be bugging him for a story, and he’d have to finish fast if he wanted to eat his food before it got cold.

After Tang left, Pigsy tried to ignore the relative quiet of the busy shop. And failed. _This is going to take some getting used to_.

* * *

When Pigsy picked up MK from school, the kid immediately started chattering about his day. He bragged about how he was one of the only kids who could already read and complained about the boredom of nap time.

“And I made friends with a dragon!” Pigsy blinked at that.

“Really?” he asked.

“Yeah! Her name is Mei and her great-grandfather, or was it just grandfather? Anyway, he was the dragon horse from the Monkey King stories!”

_Oh, yeah. I wondered what happened to him._

“Is that so?”

“Yep! She even showed me a picture! I asked her if I could borrow it to show you, but she said she doesn’t let anybody else hold it, so you have to meet her if you wanna see it. Can she come to the shop this weekend? Please? Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease-“

“Kid,” Pigsy interrupted. “It’s a shop. Anyone can come.”

“Oh, yeah.” MK thought for a few long seconds. “Can we pick her up?”

Pigsy sighed, but agreed.

Mei, it turned out, really was related to the dragon horse, and she was almost as adorable as MK. The two were practically attached at the hip already.

Something deep, deep down in Pigsy, so deep he wasn’t even aware of it, knew that it was supposed to be that way, and the ever-present feeling of wrongness lessened a fraction.

* * *

After a few years of regularly returning to Pigsy’s Noodles, Tang felt almost like part of the family. MK looked up to him, Pigsy was nice to him, in the gruff sort of way Pigsy was nice to anyone. It was… pleasant. He didn’t really have any family, himself. Just books and papers.

It was hard to say, though, how Pigsy really felt about him. Or anyone else, for that matter. How he was with MK was a pretty good measure, Tang supposed. Gruff, but far from mean. But he was polite to customers, too, unless they caused trouble. Really, while Tang knew MK liked having him around, he sometimes worried about annoying Pigsy. He didn’t want to do that; not when Pigsy was the one who ended up providing most of his food. _Though I should probably lay off the noodles either way._

He was contemplating this even as he walked to the noodle shop one morning, a bit earlier than usual. It probably wasn’t open yet, but then, he didn’t really go for the quiet place to sit anymore.

He’d long since finished his report on Monkey King, back before MK even started school. When he’d told MK that the report was complete, to his surprise, the kid had started crying. Apparently, he was sure Tang would stop coming over and telling him stories. Tang had quickly reassured him that he had plenty stories left and was shocked when the kid only cried harder! He’d looked to Pigsy for help, but Pigsy had just given him a look that said, “You got yourself into this, you can get yourself out.”

It turned out, MK was worried that Tang wouldn’t come back to _tell him_ those stories. Whoops. Once the kid had calmed down, helped along by the story of the time Monkey King had borrowed Princess Iron Fan’s fan to cross a burning mountain range, Pigsy had congratulated Tang on “finally finishing that stupid paper.” He’d gotten discount noodles that day, which was nice.

Approaching the noodle shop, Tang chuckled at the memory. MK was getting so big now, he wouldn’t be too surprised if the kid soon started saying he was too old for Monkey King. He quashed the little spark of anxiety that gave him.

A sudden crash pulled him from his thoughts.

The window to the storage room above Pigsy’s shop was shattered. A group of strangers in masks stood around the entrance, and one was attempting to scale the awning beneath the window. Apparently having failed to pry up the metal shutters, they’d resorted to breaking a window and climbing through it.

“Hey!” Tang yelled, not pausing to think. “What do you think you’re doing?”

The one that had been scaling the awning fell, and the whole group turned to face Tang. He gulped.

“Why- Why don’t you try the shop across the street, huh? The owner of this one has a kid.” The strangers kept staring at him, and one stepped closer. Tang nearly stepped back, but he knew if he left, these people would just go back to robbing Pigsy’s shop. He stood his ground, continuing, “Besides, the guy that owns _that_ one is a real jerk.”

The group surrounded him as he spoke. He turned slowly, trying to keep as many in sight as possible. There were only five of them, but most of them were big. Too big for him to take on alone.

“You planning on calling the police?” one of the strangers asked. Tang shook his head mutely. He cleared his throat.

“Not,” he gulped, “Not if you leave this shop alone.”

The strangers laughed.

Then one took a swing at him.

Tang did his best to fight back, but taking on five people when running isn’t an option is a big ask for one guy. In other words, he was getting _destroyed._

The fight didn’t last long, though not because Tang lost. He’d certainly been losing pretty bad, only getting in a few decent hits and taking many more. Two of the thugs had just grabbed his arms when Tang distantly heard someone yell, “Mr. Tang!” He felt a shot of panic at the familiar voice and started kicking wildly to keep the strangers from turning their attention to the sound. _Do what you will to me, but leave MK out of it!_ he thought desperately.

Luckily, within moments police sirens wailed, and the would-be thieves dropped Tang and dispersed. The police car whizzed past after one of the thugs, and the others disappeared into the side streets before they could be caught.

Tang let out a sigh of relief and slumped against the wall of the noodle shop, shutting his eyes. _Oof, there’s definitely gonna be some bruises. What was I thinking? Why didn’t I just run?_ He heard footsteps approaching and reluctantly pried them open again. MK was in front of him with tears in his eyes; Pigsy stood behind him with his arms crossed. _Oh, yeah. That’s why._

“What the heck was that?” Pigsy asked. He sounded mad. Tang winced.

“They were breaking into the shop,” Tang said, and Pigsy’s face darkened.

“Why didn’t you just call the police?” Pigsy demanded.

“Pigsy,” MK said, but he didn’t continue.

“I don’t have my phone on me,” Tang said. It was true. He’d left it at the noodle shop the night before, when he’d been at MK’s tenth birthday. That was one of the reasons he’d been there so early.

Pigsy sighed, uncrossed his arms, and knelt next to MK, facing Tang. He looked almost _concerned_.

“Are you okay?” MK asked.

Tang thought about lying, but MK was pretty good at reading him, so he replied, “A little beat up, but not too bad. I’ll be fine.” Mk stared at him, as if to gauge his authenticity. Apparently satisfied, he smiled a little.

“Okay.” His smile widened, and he continued, “Hey, at least your glasses didn’t break.” Pigsy and Tang both chuckled at that.

Pigsy helped him stand and unlocked the shutter blocking the shop entrance, and the three of them settled into their usual routine.

The only exception was, when Pigsy set the bowl of noodles in front of Tang, he said, “It’s on the house.”

Tang gave him a bewildered look, prompting him to continue, “Just this once.”

Tang smiled and dug into his food.

It was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted.

* * *

When MK turned sixteen, Pigsy began teaching him to drive, promising to make him a delivery boy when he got his license.

“Does this mean you’re gonna pay me?” MK asked, sitting behind the wheel of Pigsy’s truck, bouncing in his seat.

Pigsy groaned. “One thing at a time, kid.” He walked MK through all the basics, then they set off.

MK was, frankly, a terrible driver. Pigsy’s patience—and survival instincts—couldn’t take it for long. They’d barely gone a block before Pigsy took over and drove them home. Even as he assured the kid that he’d get better with practice, MK got the feeling that driving the truck wasn’t going to work for him.

“So much for delivering noodles,” MK moped. Pigsy gave him a bewildered look. _What kind of kid_ wants _to deliver noodles?_ “I really wanted that paycheck.”

_There it is._

“Keep practicing, kid. You’ll get there,” Pigsy reassured him. MK looked up at him hopefully.

Pigsy had him enrolled in driver’s ed by the end of the year. He just didn’t have the patience for teaching.

Neither, it turned out, did MK’s driver’s ed instructor. It wasn’t that he was _bad_ at it, per se. He was just overly enthusiastic. And had a very short attention span.

One ADHD diagnosis later, they found a teacher—and medication—that worked for the kid. License in hand, MK asked once again about that delivery boy job.

“I really think I can handle it!” MK declared.

Pigsy was skeptical.

“I just don’t know…”

“C’mon Pigsy, I can do it! I was born ready!”

Pigsy relented, but not without one caveat. He went out and bought a golf cart for deliveries.

“Just in case.”

MK thought he should be offended that Pigsy thought so little of his driving ability, but he was too excited. A job and a golf cart! How cool was that?!

Pigsy’s Noodles started offering afternoon and evening noodle deliveries the next week, once Pigsy was sure MK could be trusted with the golf cart on his own. Sure, it was secondhand and rickety, but it was expensive! And it provided less protection in the event of a crash than a car…

* * *

For MK’s eighteenth birthday, Pigsy, Tang, and Mei cleaned out the storage rooms above the noodle shop and turned the second floor into a pretty cozy apartment. Mei even bought extra furniture, like a bookshelf and desk.

“They’re not extra,” she’d insisted. “They’re absolutely essential!”

Pigsy had to admit, the kid _did_ have a lot of Monkey King comics and collectibles that would need a place, and Mei’s family _was_ rich. He allowed it. The arcade machine, however, he vetoed.

MK nearly cried when he saw the apartment. Pigsy knew he’d been stressed about whether he wanted to move out or not, and this was a good compromise.

“And now you’ll never be late for work,” Pigsy said. MK tilted his head, confused.

“How would living here help? I come to work from school.”

“Sure, for now. But when you graduate, I’m promoting you to full time.”

“Oh, uh… thanks?”

Tang and Mei laughed, and the group of them gathered back downstairs for cake. The shop had even been closed early for the party.

Pigsy gazed around the room at the others, and it felt like something inside him clicked into place. That feeling that had kept him trapped surged up, stealing his breath, then settled, weaker than it had ever been before. He leaned against a booth to catch his breath. Tang gave him a weird look, but Pigsy waved him off, and, with a shrug, he went back the conversation.

Pigsy felt lighter, like there’d been a weight on him that he wasn’t aware of until it was gone. Whatever it was that had been bothering him all these years, he felt he was close to finding it now. He had all the pieces, he could feel it. He may not know what he needed to do yet, but, looking around again, he knew that whatever it was, he could handle it.

And he wouldn’t be alone. 

**Author's Note:**

> Were all those scenes strictly necessary to get the point across? No, probably not. Still, I like them, so they're there.
> 
> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. If you're interested in checking out my WIPs site, the url is https://thestoriesinmyhead543561432.wordpress.com/ because I can't afford a better domain. You may be wondering why I post WIPs on a separate site instead of just putting them on here, and the answer is... because I like it. I don't know what else to tell you.


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